


The Days As They Come

by OriginalWeird



Category: N.E.R.D.S. - Michael Buckley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-11-08 00:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalWeird/pseuds/OriginalWeird
Summary: I wrote a story called The N.E.R.D.S. Of Days Yet To Come. This is kind of like a sequel, but is a series of one shots detailing the past, present and future of the original team I used in that story. If you haven't read The N.E.R.D.S. Of Days Yet To Come, I'd advise it.Again, while the team we know won't be our main focus, they'll be showing up.





	1. Chapter 1

Cassee and Ashton been doing this for about three months now.

There are kisses, and they walk home together, but every time she tries to talk properly about what's happening, he gets a bit nervous.

It's understandable. She knows more about his demons now, so she's trying her best, even though she wants to confirm that he is, in fact, her boyfriend and then shout that from the rooftops. She wants to go on dates, she wants to share milkshakes, she wants all the gooey cliché romance stuff, but she'll wait.

So, it's utterly unintentional. They're saying goodbye outside Cassee's building, and it just slips out.

"I love you!"

It's not as if she doesn't. It's not as if that's not something she thinks about all the time, especially when she finds herself looking at their wedding, their first house, their future, the future she knows he's a part of because of these dumb visions she can't talk about. 

It is something that makes him drop her hand and jump back like she's poisonous.

"No. You don't."

She's said it now. Whatever. It's fine.

"Yeah, Ashton. I love you."

He speaks like there's something to be feared.

"How could you possibly know what love is?"

"I do."

"My parents thought they did, but they didn't, and now I'm ruined-"

"Love is quitting the thing you easily could have been famous for to make sure the person you love is secure, and then doing things you hate just so they'll be okay."

"What?"

"Love is…explaining the plot of a book for the twenty-fourth time because they're forgetting."

"Cassee?"

"Love is the smile someone gives you when you tell them you trust them!"

She's starting to cry.

"Love is knowing they'll tell you the truth, trusting they'll help, no matter what they do to everyone else!"

She's crying.

"Love is carrying someone for a million, billion miles because they told you their legs were tired. Love is telling someone you're proud of them, even if they don't know what they did. Love is people asking you if you're okay. Love is…"

She takes a half-second. She lowers her voice.

"You."

He doesn't know what to say, so he blurts out the first thing in his head.

"What do you mean, me?"

"Ashton, love is when I manage to make you smile for a half-second and my whole head fills with butterflies. Love is when you let me hold your hand while you fall asleep and I think as hard as I can about happy, beautiful things so I can chase out the demons. Love is when you tell me I'm your friend but we both know that word isn't nearly big enough.

I am your friend.

And then some more.

And I know what I mean when I say I love you."

He doesn't think there's any words he could use now.

He settles for kissing her instead. It's on the verge of a perfect moment, and when he stops doing that, he whispers a few words.

"Well, if that's what it is, I guess I love you too."


	2. Chapter 2

He was seven.

Seven years old, curled up in his room, trying to block out the angry words with his blanket. 

It was raining.

Storming, thundering, tearing the world apart with lightning ripping through a sky that would never calm. 

They were breaking.

It wasn't hard to figure that much out. He was small, but he didn't think he was dumb.

She thought he was dumb.

Maybe he was, but even someone dumb like him could figure out that his family wasn't how families were supposed to be. Families were supposed to be happy. 

There was supposed to be love.

There was no love for him in her heart.

Her voice rose further. She was the banshee from the old Halloween movie he'd watched with dad, and she was drowning out everything. He heard his dad's voice-quiet and tired and not how dad was supposed to be. 

Dad still had at least a little bit of love left.

She screamed again. This time, there were no words-there was just anger. 

They were breaking like puzzle pieces that were never supposed to be shoved together in the first place. He'd done a puzzle with his dad-a bit more than a week ago. Just the two of them, taking up most of the living room and all of the afternoon and those old rock songs dad liked singing playing around them. He'd been so proud when they'd finished it. 

He'd showed her when she got home from work and she'd thrown it all out the window.

She had broken something. Those were crashing noises. Those meant that she was almost done. 

That was something. 

His alarm clock with the glow-in-the-dark dinosaur told him it was three am in the morning. It didn't matter. Sleep was…not for him. He didn't like sleep. She yelled at him there, too.

At last, it seemed like she would go to sleep. No more crashing. No more yelling.

But there was still noise. 

Crying? Who was crying? Why was there crying?

Help. He had to help.

A pair of grey socks were silent as they padded down the hallway, and made only a little bit of sound as he reached up to his father, who sat crying at the kitchen table.

"Hey, Kid."

He didn't say anything. Words were stupid. Words only ever hurt.

He just offered up the teddy bear that helped him stop crying. She would help Dad.

"Oh, Kid. Thank you. You and bear come here."

He and the bear sat in dad's lap and tried to help. There was almost silence. For a moment, it was almost fine.

Then she came back.

She had a backpack, and a suitcase. They weren't going on holiday. Where was she going?

"Goodbye, Useless. Goodbye, Stupid. And hey Stupid? A few words of advice."

She was too close to his face. The smell of smoke was so strong his eyes started watering.

Yeah, that's why.

"Don't say you love a girl. You don't, I promise you, and even if you do it fades. Nothing lasts. Young love is a myth, and love is a lie. You will never amount to anything. You are worthless. Goodbye."

She was gone.

He was crying. Dad was crying. The storm was raging.

Sleep was gone. Hope was gone.

Love was dead.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, he could do this. 

Jackson had held up his end of the bet, and he was never living it down if he didn't just suck it up and give Ruby the new strain of allergy medicine. He'd spent the better part of two years, taking up almost all the surfaces in their apartment, perfecting everything. 

And it was perfect.

Side effects? None. No symptoms from allergies. At all. At least twenty-four hours before it even began to wear off. 

But was it good enough?

Nothing was going to really make up for all his mistakes. Everyone said they'd forgiven him, more than a decade on, for the person he'd been, but sometimes he wondered if they really…

No. He'd been over this. 

He had forgiven Jackson. Jackson was now his best friend, and he wasn't the person he had been anymore, and neither was Heathcliff. Heathcliff was a different person.

A better person.

A person Ruby would agree to go out with…?

He had definitely been planning this for too long. It was getting obsessive. Stupid. He needed to just get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. 

Ruby visited the apartment frequently. Everyone did. Heck, he and Jackson couldn't keep them out most of the time. 

Ruby had said she wanted to go to their place to do her paperwork, because the couple that lived next to her had recently had a baby and it was impossible to focus. She'd said that, through text, twenty-five minutes ago. This meant she would be there within three-odd minutes. 

Jackson was currently not home, and that meant Heathcliff would be alone. With Ruby. 

This was an opportunity! This was a good thing!

Yeah.

Ruby had stopped knocking or otherwise announcing her presence a year or so into coming over, which meant Heathcliff almost fell off the couch when she walked in. She barely acknowledged him. Fair enough, for her this was not a social thing. 

Which. Uh. Was fine. She probably wouldn't get upset when he tried to talk to her. 

Wow, she'd already taken up the full coffee table. She was scribbling something in the margins, already focused. 

Already…not someone he should be distracting. 

Okay.

He'd wait. Until she finished the page or something. Yeah. Good plan. 

So, Heathcliff retreated to the kitchen, and tried very, very hard not look like he was staring at Ruby, despite the fact that he was totally staring at Ruby. And then ten minutes passed. She hadn't turned her page. Fifteen minutes. 

His neck was kinda cramping now. 

Twenty minutes. Okay, this was enough.

"Hey Ruby?"

The girl's head snapped up like a bomb had just gone off. Oops.

"Yeah?"

"You know…you know my experiment?"

"The one that took over the entire apartment?"

Heathcliff didn't say anything. 

"Yeah, I know it. Very mysterious. What about it?"

"I…I finished it."

"Great! Good for you!"

She turned to go back to her paperwork. Whoops. Okay, try again.

"It's…it's for…it's allergy medicine."

"It…it's what?"

"A new strain. Extra strong. I made it…I made it for you."

She was standing up now. Walking over to him.

"How strong?"

"You'd be able to eat all the things you're allergic to. And, uh, do all the activities, and-"

"Can I test it?"

"What?"

"Can I have some. Right now. Please."

"Uh, sure. Hold on a second-"

Heathcliff jumped up. Ran straight for his room. Flung open his wardrobe. Grabbed the box. Here goes nothing.

"Uh, here."

Ruby took one of the pills and swallowed it dry. She looked around the kitchen.

"Do you guys have peanut butter?"

"Wha…what?"

"Peanut butter. Is it currently in the apartment? I want to know what it tastes like."

"No?"

"Why the hell not?"

"Um. Because you come over a lot and are severely allergic to peanuts, so we don't buy them?"

"Dammit! You thoughtful, stupid, caring idiot! Get your keys, we're going to go buy peanut butter."

"What?"

"You heard me!"

She grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Let's go!"

Heathcliff managed to catch his keys and his jacket as he was dragged out of his apartment. This certainly hadn't been the original plan. Well. He was spending time with Ruby, he wasn't exactly going to do a whole bunch of complaining about this outcome. He was shoved into his own driver's seat, and then Ruby clambered in next to him.

"Floor it!"

It felt kind of like they were on a mission again, even if they were only going to get peanut butter. And, well, Ruby seemed more excited than she'd been about most missions. 

Was she bouncing in her seat?

The nearest grocery store was barely two minutes from the apartment, but it seemed they couldn't get there fast enough. They were both laughing like crazy people when they pulled up. She reached out and held his hand, pulling him into the store. Faster, faster, faster. He couldn't keep up. When they finally stopped in front of a cluster of jars, he was catching his breath. She snatched one and they were moving again. She ran her hands over the pockets of her blazer. 

"Shoot…Heathcliff, I don't have my wallet."

"It's fine. I got it."

Heathcliff paid for the peanut butter, and Ruby opened it as they walked out onto the street. She stuck her fingers straight into the jar and ate it while they stood on the footpath.

"Whoa."

"Uh, you alright? Ruby?"

"That is much better than I thought it would be."

"It is?"

"You wanna go get something with eggs now?"

"What?"

"Restaurant. Café. Something. I want to order something with eggs. You know anywhere?"

"Oh. Yeah, actually!"

"Then let's go, Hodges! Move, move, move!"

They were running this time, because the café was right down this street. It was a good place. Best coffee he'd ever had. And the pastries weren't terrible, either. They were in one of the faded red-brown booths before he could do much. He ordered a coffee. She ordered eggs benedict, at least three different pastries, a few slices, and a milkshake…wait, make that two milkshakes. The waitress walked away, looking a little shell-shocked.

"There's no way you'll finish all that."

"Really?"

She raised an eyebrow at him like he was being ridiculous.

"Yeah, really."

"Then you can help me."

"Alright then. It's a lot of food, even for two people."

"Then we'll go somewhere after this. Run around a bunch. Burn up all the calories."

"We…we will?"

"Yeah. Maybe that arcade?"

"Sounds…sounds like a plan."

She grinned at him. The waitress came back with a coffee and two milkshakes. Ruby and Heathcliff just talked. About old missions, about current jobs, about their friends, about their enemies. They talked, and bickered, and joked their way through a mountain of pastries and slices. About an hour later, they were back in his car, headed for that arcade. 

Heathcliff had been wanting to go there since he'd heard about it, really. But he hadn't had the time. Ruby beat him at several things, then he beat her at several things, and then they had a grand tiebreaker final round, for which a surprisingly large crowd gathered. She won, just, and threw her arms around him in celebration. He blinked for a second, then hugged her back. When they stumbled back out of the arcade, it was dark out. 

Huh. How long had they been doing this?

A glance at his watch confirmed it had been way too long, and it was definitely time to take Ruby home. When he told her this, she brushed him off.

"Nah. All my paperwork's at yours. I'm going there."

Oh. Right. That sounded reasonable enough. 

They were slower, this time. Walking to his car. Driving. Walking up to the door. He wasn't sure why she was doing that, but he was being slow so he'd get a few more minutes with her. They were still talking as they stopped outside his door.

"So. You're coming in to…get everything?"

"Well…I could always just leave it. You could drop by the Playground in the morning. I'll be there pretty early."

"Sounds…"

She was closer to his face then she had been before.

"Sounds good."

She grinned at him. Darted forward. Kissed his cheek. Waved goodbye and took off down the hallway.

He stood where he was for at least two minutes too long, waving at where she had been.

When he went back into the apartment, he was still dazed. Jackson, sitting at the kitchen table, looked at him like he was insane. Jackson was holding a hot pink mug with impact font that someone had bought them as a gag gift, and had a towel wrapped around his head. He looked a little bit insane.

"And where the hell have you been?"

"I think I was just on a date. With Ruby."

Jackson slammed down his mug of orange juice. It went all over the table.

"What-how-tell-me-everything-right-now-"

And so he did. 

A few years on, that conversation would have a whole paragraph devoted to it in Jackson's best man speech.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place while the team we know is still in high school, but was written to fit within this universe.

Ruby Peet stared into her locker.

It was almost empty. She was weeks from graduating, and everything felt so weird it was almost sickening. She scratched her left arm absentmindedly. 

What had changed, really?

What would change?

Well. That was easy.

No more cool allergies, because no more upgrades, because no more N.E.R.D.S., and no more school.

No more friends?

No. She would always have her friends. 

She leaned out from behind the metal door and took them in. Her friends. 

There was Jackson, leaning against the furthest locker as he talked to Heathcliff. 

Jackson's braces would be coming off soon. She didn't know what his face would look like without them. 

But he'd still be him. He'd still be jokes and comebacks and determination so brutal it'd kill him if someone didn't hold him back. He still didn't have a plan, regarding what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. 

He insisted he'd come up with something as he went. 

He was having the same conversation with Heathcliff he'd been having since their first year of high school, which had first taken place when Jackson had proclaimed he'd just drop out of school and become a bodyguard for 'some important guy. I save enough people, might as well get paid!' 'You are getting paid!'

"Seriously, Jackson, you have to at least have some idea what you want to do with your life. Is there anyone who's job you want?"

"I want James Bond's job."

"No!"

It would end the same way it always did, with one of them getting distracted or leaving. It was, at this point, a long-running joke between friends, and they both knew it went nowhere. 

That didn't stop them, though. 

Speaking of Heathcliff, he was more or less the same. He'd had a clear plan for his life since they'd all been about twelve: get a job in a medicine lab, settle down, be happy. There was a half-shadow on the horizon. Would they have to remove Heathcliff's nanobytes? Would that make his parents forget him?

If it did, they'd figure out something to fix it. They were a team, and there was nothing they couldn't figure out. They'd help him.

Her bag was swung over one of his shoulders, his over the other. They had a lot of the same classes, and he took it whenever she let him. Something about being a gentleman. Well, there was nothing wrong with it, and he said it didn't bother him. It was a nice gesture, she had to admit. 

Ruby came to the conclusion she was now staring at Heathcliff and moved on to looking at her other friends.

Flinch was speaking through a mouthful of marshmallow bar, spraying pink goo while he told a joke. He was going to open a candy shop, he said, just a small one on a corner with everything from the pastries Mama Rosa had taught him to hard-boiled sweets secraterys kept on their desks. Nothing big, he said, because he didn't even want to be hugely successful. Making a couple people happy would be good enough. 

He was worried about Mama Rosa. They all were. It was a secret to no-one that she was getting well and truly into the winter of her life, and that she might not see Flinch's corner shop. Whenever anyone tried to talk to him about it, he laughed and brushed it off, saying she'd outlive them all. 

And who knew? She was a tough lady. 

Laughing at the jokes Flinch was enthusiastically telling, Matilda and Duncan were almost right behind the locker door Ruby was leaning around. She was tucked under his arm like she was supposed to be there, one arm around his waist. 

And hell, it was about time. 

It had been about time since they were about thirteen.

Matilda was going to be a professional wrestler. No-one was going to be able to talk her out of that one, and who would even try? It was her ambition. It had been for longer than any of them had known her. And Duncan was going to be an inventor. He wanted to create something to do with cars. Ruby hadn't heard the full plan, but it was Duncan. He was going to do it well.

While Duncan talked to Flinch, Matilda leaned up and kissed his cheek. He stopped talking, a dopey grin on his face. Matilda grinned. Flinch laughed at them.

Ruby put her head back in her locker. She knew her planner was in here somewhere, because she'd thrown it in right after first period.

Her planner. Her plan.

Well, her plan was get in a leadership position. 

Go into politics, be the head of a company, be a principal. Become a leader, and then lead. Lead everyone she could to great things. Help. Create change. Make a mark, even if it was just on one person. But hopefully on more than one person.

When Ruby spotted her planner, she leaned right into her locker to get it, and she managed to miss the school bell. 

Her friends didn't. They were all walking away by the time she'd managed to grab it from under a stack of test papers she could never figure out where to file. They stopped, once they realised, and they waited for her. She swung her locker shut and stood there for a second.

They were a team, and it was so easy to see it when they stood together. Everyone fit so well.

"You coming, Pufferfish?"

Heathcliff shifted her bag on his shoulder. She dashed forward. 

She fit well too. She belonged here, surrounded by the greatest friends she ever could have had.

She probably always would.


	5. Chapter 5

Brett Bealer wasn't doing great for himself, these days.

Hey, you couldn't really blame him. Sure, he'd flunked out of college, sure, he now worked a dead-end job and lived in an apartment with around three different pest problems, but he was…

Uh.

Well, he had gone to high school with a bunch of losers. They would all be doing way worse than him. He had been the coolest guy in school. He'd had the cheerleader girlfriend, and the band of devoted followers, and his life had rocked. And here, tonight, at his ten-year reunion, he'd get to relive that awesomeness! One of the girls here would jump at the chance to get with him. Maybe several girls would. Rub it in everyone's faces, how cool he still was. 

And make no mistake, he was still cool.

He'd put on his best suit. It was a bit tight, now, but it still looked good on him. He still looked good in everything. 

Yeah.

The gym doors were reassuringly familiar. The fashionably (read: very) late Brett slicked back his hair and stepped into the room.

Ah. Paradise.

Now, where was a girl for him…

Ah! 

Right ahead, hanging around next to the table covered in snacks, some chick in purple. She was sort of buff, sort of short, but overall, she was pretty...wow. Who was that?

She looked great. He had dibs!

Time to just…pull the moves out.

He sauntered over, looking like the coolest guy on the planet. He was right behind her, and he busted out his coolest voice. Like silk. Or butter. 

"Heyyyyy."

She spun around so fast he thought he was going to be thrown. She stuck her finger in his face.

Geez, flipping off a guy? How crude. 

Oh.

Oh, that wasn't her middle finger.

He was looking at an engagement ring and a wedding ring. Okay. Yep. That dibs outranked his own. Um. Backtrack. Don't let her know what you were just…

"Do you even remember who I am, Brett?"

Well. No, no he did not.

"Of course I do!"

"Yeah. Sure."

She rolled her eyes.

"Matilda. Matilda Choi."

No she freaking wasn't!

Matilda Choi had been weird. She'd had a monobrow. She'd been a nerd!

This was not Matilda Choi.

Okay, apparently it was. 

"Oh! Cool, cool. Say, what are you doing? These days?"

"I'm a professional wrestler."

She looked sort of bored.

"And I own the Roundhouse gym and workout equipment chain."

Brett Bealer blinked. 

Incredibly successful hot girl. Who was her husband? Maybe she was…

No, no-one stayed together that long.

"Oh. Cool. And, uh, congratulations on the wedding."

"Thanks."

She took a sip of the drink she was holding. He was sweating, maybe.

"Uh, your husband here?"

"Oh. Yeah. He's talking to Julio right now."

Brett spun around in a very cool, non-frantic way. Yeah, there was that Julio kid. He was still skinny-looking. But who was he talking to?

He didn't look like the guy Matilda had been with in high school. Did he?

He turned around. Smiled at Matilda. Walked over. The Julio guy was behind him.

Huh. He was sort of intimidatingly strong-looking. 

You would be, if your wife owned a bunch of gyms, wouldn't you?

"Hey, Brett."

It was. It was Duncan Dewey. Duncan Dewey, who had been dating Matilda Choi since high school, and currently had his arm around her and had married her and…

Brett needed to get away. Now. 

"Oh, hey man. What's…what's up with you?"

"Not much. Patent for my flying car goes through next week."

Brett had heard about that thing on the news! He wanted to order one! It sounded so cool.

And this guy…had invented it?

Before he could even process that one, the Julio guy came over.

He'd founded Flinch! candy. How did Brett leave?

Matilda checked her watch. 

"Oh, Honey, we might need to start leaving soon, Cassee can't watch the kids forever."

The…kids?

Brett did not bolt. Anyone who told you he bolted was wrong. He simply walked away briskly without giving an explanation. You know. Like a cool guy.

Okay. Attempt one was a disaster. 

There was a girl in red near the front of the room. She was blonde, and she was pretty. Brett was almost certain she had been one of the many cheerleaders he'd never learned the names of. 

He had a pretty good shot. 

He pulled the same move. She spun around with her chin resting in her hand. That was an engagement ring. 

Brett had no luck.

"So. Hey…"

"Ruby. Peet."

No the hell she wasn't.

She smiled at him like she wanted him to explode. The guy she'd been talking to before he had cut in moved around to stand closer to her. 

Like, really close.

He was pretty sure this guy was her fiancé. 

Okay. Bad. 

Yep. 

"Hey. Uh. Dude."

The dude was Heathcliff Hodges. When Brett had stuttered out something resembling questions, he'd learned that these people were also more successful than him. 

She was a GENERAL. He was in medicine. Brett wanted out. 

He excused himself as quickly as possible, hands shaking. There had to be one person here who was also unsuccessful. He wasn't the failure. 

"Hey, Brett."

"Well, look who it is. Jackson."

His former best friend smiled. 

"How's it going, man?"

"Well. You know. Life working out for you?"

"I'm a janitor. I'm a janitor here, actually."

He wasn't successful. Brett Baker was fine.

"Good…good for you, man."

Jackson Jones just smiled. Brett tried to talk again.

"So. You…got a girl?"

"Oh. Yeah. My wife's this school's librarian."

He married a librarian! That was barely a step up from crazy cat lady! Oh…this was almost worse than being single! Brett was sure she like…only wore cardigans, and really thick glasses, and hated noise…

"Babe, when are we leaving?"

"Hey Mindy! This is Brett! Brett, meet my wife!"

This was the hottest pregnant chick Brett had ever seen. Maybe the hottest chick in general. She looked like some kind of model. She gave him a bored half-smile.  
"Jackson, seriously, we should go. Kid won't stay still."

"Just a second, have to-where did Brett go?"

Brett had gone away.

He was sure something was very, very wrong, and he wanted out and he wanted out now. Almost at the door, someone hugged him.

"Brett! Helllloooo!"

Some girl in high heels that were going to break her ankles, with eyebrows so high she looked permanently surprised, was smiling at him. 

"Hell-who are you?"

"What? Silly, I was your girlfriend for two whole years!"

This. This was Brett's cheerleader girlfriend? This was Hailey?

No.

Brett sprinted out of the gym. This was wrong. Everything was wrong, and he was going home. 

This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out.

This wasn't his world anymore.

He wanted to go back to where he'd been and he wanted it now.

This was not how it his life went! This was not where his story ended!

But alas, it was.

Unhappyily every after, Brett Bealer would continue down the same path. His dead-end job would be the entirey of his career. He'd get back with the cheerleader girlfriend. Nothing would really change, and people would stop caring about who he was in high school before he could figure out why it wouldn't matter. 

Life goes on.


	6. Chapter 6

The door was knocked off its hinges. 

Well, that seemed like a clue if he'd ever seen one. 

He hadn't even stepped through the door…the doorframe. Calling it anything seemed like getting ahead of himself.

He wasn't someone who got ahead of himself, and he wasn't going to start now.

There was something going on, though. He could just tell. 

"Hello?"

He knocked on the side of the doorframe, hesitant. 

"Come in already! Not like there's a door!"

He stepped into the hallway, almost tripping over a small orange cat that coiled around his legs and purred. Before he could even get to the end of the hall, a Dalmatian came racing out to meet him and almost knocked him off his feet.

This house was full of obstacles.

"Down, boy."

The dog obliged. He stepped into the kitchen, from which the yell had come. 

"Oh, the detective's here."

The woman speaking was tall, with her hair escaping from the bun she'd pulled it into, only one earring. She smiled at him.

"How was your day?"

"Good, thanks. Could I ask why the door's knocked over?"

"The goat ran into it."

The detective nodded as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Three birds, brightly coloured, were circling the ceiling lamp, and a second cat, this one grey, was sitting on a counter, waiting for the bowl the tall woman was fussing with. The kitchen itself looked like a warzone. Every cabinet was open, and the contents of the fridge seemed to have exploded. 

"What's happened here?"

"Dinner, mostly."

Cameron Hall was almost certain something else had happened. He didn't bother with further questions. He knew, at this point, he wasn't going to get a proper answer.

A broken glass had splintered in the empty fruit bowl. He noted it. 

That'd probably have to be cleaned up.

When he walked into the hallway again, three toddlers blurred past him. They were evading capture at the hands of their teenage sister, who chased them and barely yelled a greeting as she almost knocked the hall table over. All four were running circles around the front lawn before he could say anything to them. 

His case. He was supposed to be focusing on his case.

Possible forced entry. Three items stolen.

No fingerprints, no alarms set off. One note.

Honestly, he didn't want to think about all that. He was home now. He hung up his jacket and went to get his kids off the lawn.

"Charlotte! Harry! Timothy! Stop running away from Roxy!"

On any other day, Cameron would be the one making dinner, and would have spent most of his time chasing pets and kids. But Harper had Wednesdays off, so he was available for field work. Actual surveillance of scenes, instead of sitting at the desk in his home office reviewing security camera footage, blurry photos and vague descriptions. It wasn't as if he couldn't solve something with that information, but it was always better to witness everything first-hand.

In his opinion, anyway. 

Harper Hall came out the doorway a few minutes later to call them in for dinner. Cameron was laughing, carrying a toddler under each arm, joking with his oldest daughter and with his wife, who had somehow managed to bring another cat home from her animal shelter. They were already so short on space, but she could always fit another creature in amongst everything else. 

He was happy, he was fine, he was having fun.

But the thought itched in the back of his mind. Who had broken into that museum?

And how had they known to leave a note addressed to him?

_Hall._

_Catch me if you can._

_-V_


	7. Chapter 7

Cassee King knew what the house she was going to buy looked like. She'd been seeing it in daydreams and visions for most of her life. She just needed to figure out where it was.

And at this point, time was really running out.

She was twenty-one years old, getting her English degree, happily married, and six months pregnant.

It was the last factor that made time tick by too fast. 

She knew the house couldn't be too far away, because she'd recently seen herself sitting with her friends at the house's table, and they all lived nearby. But it couldn't be too close, because the beautiful field right next to it was nothing you could find within the city. And she had to find it soon, because every time she saw Ashlee, her beautiful daughter, she was in that house. 

So, instead of finishing the essay due tomorrow, Cassee was sitting with Ashton at the too-small table in their one-bedroom apartment, pouring over the millionth real estate brochure. 

Every so often, Ashton showed her one that seemed to match her extensive descriptions, and she'd have to shake her head. This should have been easier. 

Why wasn't this easier?

She knew it was a little bit obsessive, but this was The House. The dream house. The literal dream house! The one she'd been seeing herself in since she was about ten. And she was going to find it, and she was going to live in it, even if she had to look through these things for another seventy-something days. 

She hoped it took less than seventy-something days.

Ashton held up the brochure he was halfway through and pointed to another house. It was the right colour, but the porch was wrong. Cassee felt like a broken bobblehead, but she had to move her head back and forth anyway. 

Argh. 

She went back to her pamphlet.

Hours passed by. Ashton went to bed shortly after midnight, and told her not to stay where she was too late. They both knew she'd stay until morning if that was really what it took, but she just smiled and kissed him goodnight.

Her eyes made the paper blurry. She only had about a dozen left in the stack, but she had every single intention of not missing a thing they had to say. She could do this. 

She fell asleep, face resting on the table, slightly before three am. 

There were still two pamphlets left.

As Cassee slept, her dreams stitched themselves into her visions, and she was seeing through her eyes as she opened the last pamphlet and skimmed it. On the second-last page, vision-her found the house. 

Cassee started awake.

She had it in her hands before she could note the angrily blinking numbers above the stove. 5:48 am, and here she was, knocking the pamphlets off the table in her hurry and letting them drift to the floor. She opened the second-last one, fingers shaky and half-numb. 

She'd done it. She'd found it!

Only one person called the police in the aftermath of Cassee's victory scream.

See, this was why she didn't want to live in an apartment.

Ashton set up the interview. Apparently, no matter how sure she was, he wanted to actually see it. She could understand that. She'd warned him that they were buying it. Like, right after he'd seen it. He could look at the front door for a few seconds.

She knew it would be perfect.

…

Well, this was wrong. 

The house, which was always perfectly white and clean-looking when she'd seen it before, seemed like it hadn't been painted for decades. The front door wasn't the right cherry-red, but instead a sort of off-grey. One of the front windows in the window-box that was going to be the best spot for reading, once she filled it with cushions, was broken. And where were the flower-boxes, full of violets? Where was the porch swing she was going to watch sunsets and sunrises on?

Where were her dreams?

Ashton put his arm around her as the agent started talking about renovation opportunities. He'd told her it might be too good to be true, and that her daydreams could screw with the visions if they weren't good enough. She stifled a sob. 

This couldn't be it.

The agent was still talking. Why was he still talking? When was he taking them to their real house?

No. This couldn't…

Cassee King ran. 

She didn't run too far. But she did leave two men looking very confused on a porch. One of them realised what she was doing, where she was going, and ran after his wife. She still reached the back of the house first. 

Cassee was standing in her field before she could really process it. 

She was here.

Her shoulders lowered. This was better.

It looked exactly the way it always did. 

She sat down on the grass and started taking it all in. This part almost made up for the house. 

Ashton was there before the agent, stopping the man where he'd stopped himself: well away from Cassee. 

Cassee couldn't believe it. 

It felt like she was finally in the day she'd seen a million times. But she couldn't be, because if she was then…

Her butterfly.

It was perfect. It was sparkling in each and every sunbeam. And it had landed a few metres from her. 

Oh. 

There her dreams were.

Cassee's face was lit up by the sort of childlike wonder and genuine happiness that could have melted a stone heart. 

Ashton smiled in the sort of sappy way that had been entirely embarrassing when they were teenagers and still wasn't something he could do without his friends teasing him, if they happened to be present. He turned to the real estate agent. 

"We're taking it."

Cassee heard the words from where she was sitting, and almost laughed. She didn't, because that might have made the butterfly move and she was currently in the process of sitting very still so it would land on her. 

Of course they were.


	8. Chapter 8

Cameron Hall needed to do more field work.

The footage had been corrupted, now, and it seemed to be one thing on top of the other. Every time he thought he'd found a lead, the trail dried up. He was clutching at a fraying rope, and he needed to solve this. 

He needed to find V, wherever they were.

He had a possible list of suspects. People he'd offended. They were all behind bars. He'd checked up on all of them. More than once!

There was nothing he could do. Apparently. 

There was also, apparently, nothing he could do to get his toddlers to stop trying to master the art of riding a goat. 

He'd tried. He'd really tried.

Roxy Hall needed to get more of this on paper. 

She'd always been terrible at taking notes. It just seemed a little bit pointless. And was there any way to win at taking notes?

Miss Beauchamp had offered to start marking her mission reports, but that seemed a little bit stupid. Lesley might laugh at it. 

Although, if Roxy really thought about it, they hadn't done that in a while.

No. Not the point! 

A villain who went by Vendetta was leaving clues. Stealing object after object. Laying a trail of breadcrumbs. 

Roxy was supposed to be leading the chase. She'd never had an eye for details. Clues weren't her cup of tea. And someone had called her Miss Hall because they'd had to use their own membership cards to get into a museum. 

So now, every note was personally addressed.

Hall.

You're getting colder.

Hall.

I'm a step ahead.

Hall.

Catch me if you can.

She was going to break Vendetta, whoever they were, because this was cruel and she wouldn't stand for it. This villain or villainess had a world of hurt coming. Roxy Hall was going to win. 

And also maybe stop striking a heroic pose while standing on her chair in the library. This had seemed so much cooler in her head.

She clambered down.

It felt like a lot of missions…a lot of villains…ended up targeting her. The most recent big guy they'd fought had been a Cassee villain, of course, but she was always the onetimer's target. Did it have something to do with her being the tallest?

No. No, that was stupid. She knew that was stupid. Right?

Maybe it had something to do with her being the leader, then.

She'd never even particularly wanted to be the leader. She liked fights. She liked competition. But she had to admit she seemed to be the best person for the job. She just focused the most. 

And she had the sort of ridiculous determination she needed. Missions were competitions, and Roxy didn't lose. 

But she was really, really bad with taunting. 

Yesterday, some stupid villain had struck a chord. They'd made some offhand, mildly challenging comment and Roxy had shifted her objective.

"Well, by all means, why don't you just defeat my goon?"

They were supposed to just turn off the machine. Turn off the machine, arrest the villain, try not to get engaged in any battle. Just keep focus. Just keep focus.

Oh, frick it. 

Roxy turned and headed straight for the goon in question, an angry-looking man at least twice her size. 

They'd been so close to losing that fight completely, just because she couldn't keep herself focused on the right target. Just because she couldn't let herself lose. 

She just needed to get over it. 

She'd went over this with herself before. She just had to focus on something else. 

Vendetta. Vendetta, Vendetta, Vendeeetttaaaahhhh.

Oh-kay. 

There were files right in front of her, she had to read them, she had to be…

Focus. Focus. Channel Dad. Dad was good at focusing.

Vendetta had struck a museum in town recently. They'd stolen three items. An old vase, a small statue of a cat, and a hairbrush with a jewel. They'd left a note for her. 

Hall.

Catch me if you can.

Fine.

Where's the significance? Where's the rationality? Where's the pattern?

Stupid villain. 

Oh.

Oh, wait.

Roxy pulled up a map of the town and started marking spots.

Museum.

Cameron stared at the tacks in his map.

Town Hall.

Roxy was starting to see a pattern. 

Mayor's house.

Cameron was starting to see a pattern.

A sweet shop.

Roxy's finger tapped the next spot Vendetta would strike in. 

A department store.

Cameron's finger tapped the next spot the mysterious villain would strike in.

He had to be there when they did.

Cameron frowned at the map. Was that…

Roxy's school?


	9. Chapter 9

Elijah was doing fine.

Honestly. He wasn't flunking any classes, he could run well enough, and he had a group of friends.

But he wasn't getting perfect scores, he wasn't practically flying down tracks, and he wasn't hugely popular. 

So he wasn't good enough.

Elijah had lived life in a shadow. 

His oldest brother was extraordinary. 

Dr. Alex Westone, valedictorian and doctor. Successful, fantastic, happily married with a circle of perfect friends also doing oh-so-well for themselves. 

His older sister was just amazing.

Ms. Ryan Westone, sports star with the basketball scholarship, and now the perfect star player. Engaged. Popular. Verging on famous. 

And so the C- he was holding burned like a hot coal. The family disappointment who had to lie to keep himself from letting everyone down.

He just had to keep his cool.

He waited at the bus stop as usual. His friends were gone within a quarter of an hour. Cassee and Ashton walking together, as usual, Lesley and Roxy waving to him as they got on their bus. Once everyone was out of sight, he'd made his way back to the entrance of the school and hid instead of catching his bus. 

He didn't want to face his mom and dad. Not yet.

And he didn't cry. Of course he didn't. He didn't cry.

His eyes were just leaking.

"HEY!"

Someone threw their bag at his head. 

"This is my moping spot. Get your own."

Elijah still couldn't see anything. The person's bag was in his face.

"Hey yourself. Why don't you ju…"

Elijah had successfully removed the bag from his face, and could now see the person standing in front of him.

The first thing he realised was that they weren't one of the usual suspects. This person hadn't bullied him before.

The second thing he realised was that they could probably beat him up. They looked pretty strong.

The third thing was that their eyes were red and puffy and oh they'd also actually wanted to cry.

Wait! He hadn't been crying! Must make good impression!

"I wasn't crying!"

There were still tears running down his face. It was such a blatant lie, the person stared at him as if he was a moron. 

Oh, he had to fix this.

"I mean…I'm just…I've got an allergy."

They raised an eyebrow. 

"To what?"

"To…to…um. To…sad things!"

The person snickered, or something like it. They grabbed their bag and slid into the corner next to him instead of kicking him out.

"Well, of course you do."

"Yeah? Um…you're crying too!"

That was not the right thing to say.

He realised it the second after it had come out of his mouth, and he shut it. Wow, Elijah.

Alex would have known what to say.

"Yeah. I am."

The person started crying again.

Ryan would have known what to do.

"Uh. I'm…I'm crying because I'm too average."

That might work. The person looked up.

"How so?"

"My…my siblings are better than me. At everything."

"…you're not lying again, are you?"

"No. No, that's the truth."

"Okay."

There was silence.

Well, what would have been silence if not for all the sniffling.

"Thanks for telling me…?"

"Elijah! Westone."

"Like that basketball lady who was on the news?"

"…that's my sister."

"Oh."

Elijah felt stupider.

"I'm Dot. And I've got a last name, but I don't like it."

The person stuck their hand out for him to shake. They smiled.

They had a nice face when they smiled.

"And…uh, I'm crying because my parents still think I'm a girl."

Elijah wrinkled his nose up. Dot kept talking.

"I mean, I guess I'm a girl sometimes, and I'm a boy sometimes, but most of the time I'm neither."

"Okay. You're neither right now?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. You like waffles?"

"…yeah?"

Elijah rifled through his bag, then passed Dot the waffle he'd been meant to eat on the morning bus but had forgotten about. Dot looked like they could use a waffle.

"Wait, what?"

"I have a waffle vortex in my bag. Infinite waffles."

Dot sniffled again, but they were smiling this time.

"You don't suck."

"Awesome!"

"Do you wanna walk home together?"

"What?"

"We just missed the last bus."

"Oh. I knew that!"

"No, you didn't."

"…yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I knew we missed the last bus, because I know everything-"

Dot snorted.

"And yes, I want to walk home with you."

"Great. Give me a second…"

Dot ate the waffle in two bites. It was probably the most impressive thing Elijah had seen all day.

And Roxy had punched a squid in the mouth at eleven-thirty.

"You want to go get food first? I don't really want to go home."

"You just ate a waffle."

"But I could go for fries. And maybe a milkshake. Not a whole milkshake…you want half a milkshake?"

Elijah was not remembering that 50s-ish romance movie he'd watched with Ryan, and he was not blushing.

"That sounds fine! Let me just, uh…"

Call my mom. No, that's lame. Uh, cool excuse, cool excuse…

"Catch…a…tiger. Catch a tiger, first."

Dot laughed at him and swiped at their eyes with the back of their hand.

"That was actually funny. Call your mom, or whoever. I'll wait. I like your jokes."

"There's a lot more where that came from!"

And for once, Elijah Westone sure wasn't lying.


End file.
